I grew up with my adoptive parents, who were abusive, though I didn’t realize it at the time. I always had a sense that something was wrong, that something felt off, but I didn’t have the words to call it abuse. When I was around 14, my adoptive parents forced me to see psychiatrists, psychologists, and therapists. Every one of them identified me as the problem and believed my abusers’ lies. I was drugged for mental illnesses I didn’t have.
One therapist, in particular, was the worst. She constantly defended my abusers and insisted that they loved me. I don’t know how much she shared with them while I was growing up, but when I was 17, I confided in her that I was moving out. I didn’t tell her where at first, but after several sessions of pressure, I finally admitted that I planned to move in with my biological father. At our next session, she had my adoptive mother present and she revealed my plans, saying she was obligated to tell because it was “too dangerous” for me.
From that point on, she actively supported my adoptive parents in their effort to gain legal guardianship over me. She claimed I wasn’t mature enough to make my own decisions or take care of myself. Fifteen days before my 18th birthday, my adoptive mother kidnapped me. My therapist stood by them, backing their case in her interview for the guardianship proceedings. She had seemed kind at first, but she was never really on my side.
-Henry, Florida